“Oh, barf.”
Just as Cara geared up to elbow Tori in the ribs, Brandi Greene slipped into the seat beside Aelyx. She tucked a blond curl behind her ear and rested one hand on his shoulder. She didn’t even notice when he flinched away. “You,” she said, “are literally the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”
Cara fanned a notebook to disperse the scent of cheap floral perfume, a noxious odor she hadn’t endured since Brandi joined the dance team and nixed their friendship freshman year, upgrading to a new set of friends. “Well, that’s one way to introduce yourself.”
“Hmm?” Brandi asked, still gazing at Aelyx.
“Aelyx, this is Brandi, who, like the rest of Midtown High, lacks social skills.”
“Hey, I heard you and Eric are splitsville.” Brandi blinked her clumpy, tarantula-leg lashes, feigning innocence. “You don’t care if I ask him out, right?”
A ten-ton bomb filled with sulfuric acid exploded inside Cara’s stomach. Of course Brandi would want to move in on Eric—he’d become popular practically overnight after joining the lacrosse team, and the little social climber hadn’t made it to the top of the ladder yet.
Cara dug a fingernail into her palm and smiled sweetly. “Go for it. I’m sure he’s looking for an easy rebound.”
The insult slipped off Brandi’s shoulders like she was coated in social lube. “He’s got that worked out. The whole team’s taking Marcus to The Ho Depot for his birthday on Friday.”
Cara’s jaw slackened while her heart sank into her lap. The Ho Depot—a nickname for the skeevy strip joint that just went up outside city limits. Ever since word got out that the girls sold “services” in the back room, the place had become an XXX version of Chuck E. Cheese’s for barely legal birthday boys.
A lump formed in Cara’s throat, and all the swallowing in the world wouldn’t push it down. Eric was tired of waiting for her to put out, so he was going to get it somewhere else. She shouldn’t care—it was none of her business anymore. So why did she want to vomit and cry at the same time?
Tori’s hand gripped hers beneath the table while Brandi turned back to Aelyx. “Everyone says you’re crazy smart. Are all the L’eihrs like you?”
Aelyx moved a few inches in the opposite direction and said, “We’ve been bred for advanced cognitive skills, among other things.”
“Bred? Literally? Like your babies are planned and stuff?”
“Not anymore, but pairings were carefully planned for the last ten thousand years.”
Brandi licked her top lip. “Are you all this hot?”
Instead of responding, Aelyx shoved four crackers into his mouth. It seemed like a good time to change the subject.
“Hey,” Cara said to Aelyx, “can you make it home by yourself later? I’ve got to go grocery shopping.”
He nodded, mouth still full.
Brandi clapped her hands together while bouncing in her seat. “I know where you live—I’ll walk him home!”
Aelyx shook his head and waved her off, which Brandi took as an enthusiastic yes!
“It’s no problem,” Brandi insisted, even as Aelyx held one palm forward.
“Better watch out,” Tori said. “No one’s gonna want his sloppy seconds.”
“For you, I’ll risk it.” Brandi gave Aelyx’s ponytail a playful tug. “See you later, gorgeous.”
Cara hid a smile, even as guilt tugged at her stomach. She probably shouldn’t abandon Aelyx, but he’d appreciate it later. She had something special planned that just might salvage this terrible day for both of them.
“They’re every bit as loathsome as I’d anticipated,” Aelyx whispered, unclasping his hair as Syrine’s miniature hologram nodded in agreement from atop his chest of drawers. “Completely worthless as a species.” Especially the sex-obsessed female who’d followed him home after school. When she wasn’t fondling his chest, she’d badgered him with questions about L’eihr weaponry. As if he’d discuss such things with her. It had taken nearly an hour to make her leave.
“Praise the Sacred Mother I’m educated privately in the home.” Syrine’s host attended an all-male school, the only perceivable benefit of living with him. “I only socialize with the youth during—”
A metallic clatter from the other end of the house rang out.
“What was that?” Syrine asked.
“My human. I think she’s preparing a meal.” His vacant stomach rumbled in protest, no longer satisfied with nutritional supplements and the occasional cracker. He’d give anything for a bowlful of I’ina. But no matter what Cara was cooking, he knew he couldn’t eat it.
Cara. One thought of her brought an invisible weight crashing down upon his back. She didn’t know it, but she’d never see a penny of her scholarship. She’d never set foot on his planet and, worse yet, her peers would hold her accountable for his actions.
Suddenly, an earsplitting series of shrill beeps rang out from the circular white device affixed to his ceiling-—the smoke detector.
“We’ll talk later,” he mouthed before shutting down his com-sphere and stuffing it inside the top drawer. Pressing his palms over both ears, he ran through the hallway and toward the kitchen, where tentacles of foul-smelling smoke curled from the open doorway.
He darted inside and found Cara—her face streaked with sandy-colored muck—waving a broom to clear the hazy air.
“Are you all right?” he yelled over the alarm.
With a vigorous nod, she threw open the back door while he opened both windows to allow a cross breeze to ventilate the room. Eventually the air cleared, and sweet silence resumed.
The lingering stench burned his nostrils. “What happened?”
Cara pushed a greasy lock of hair away from her face and pointed to a plate of charred flatbread by the stove. “I made larun for you.”
Larun? At first he didn’t understand, but after scanning the countertop and identifying several varieties of grains and oils, it all made sense. Yesterday he’d said his favorite breakfast tasted like a cross between wheat toast and corn bread, and she must have tried replicating it for him. Great gods. She’d done all this for him—right after she’d lost her mate and half her peers.
She cleared her throat and glanced down at her pink-polished toes. “I know you’re hungry. I wanted you to have a taste of home.”
Something warm swelled inside his lungs until Aelyx feared he might take flight right there in the cluttered kitchen. If there was a name for this emotion, he didn’t know it, but he wished he could summon the feeling at will.
Nodding at the plate, he extended his palm for a sample.
“But it’s burned,” she objected, “and totally vile.”
“I’ll judge for myself.”
Hesitantly, she broke a piece in half and offered it to him.
She was right. Vile didn’t begin to describe what he’d just put into his mouth. The texture reminded him of chewing soil, gritty and thick, and his taste buds could discern nothing but carbon. When he bit down too hard, a sharp edge of grain sliced his gums and he winced, holding one hand against his cheek.
“Oh, Cara, it’s so . . . good.”
“Yeah?” Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Then you probably can’t stop at one.” She held out the plate. “Go on. Finish the rest.”
“No, that’s okay,” he said, holding up his hands. “I don’t want to be greedy.”
“I insist.”
“Really, I should save some for your parents.” It was getting harder to keep a straight face. “They’ll love it.”
“That’s true.” She tilted her head in mock contemplation. “I know! I’ll make a fresh batch every single day until you leave. Then I’ll bring the recipe to L’eihr ... so you can eat it forever!”